American Horror Story - Season 2AU E4 - Blood and Guts
by leaftheweed
Summary: Episode 4: Violet and Tate have fled Briarcliff. What will happen at the institution during their absence when the hospital gets a new homicidal patient? With Dr. Harmon on administrative leave, the Manor is stretched thin to cover the growing needs of the patients. What goes on in the asylum's maximum security ward in the wee hours? Sink into the Blood and Guts of the story...
1. Chapter 1 - Dandy Checks In

.

"Mother."

Since the day he was born the red-haired woman had done her best to provide for her son and cover his every need and want - often before the boy even knew what he wanted. Gloria couldn't stand to see a child suffer and, to her mind, denying him anything she could get for him would cause avoidable suffering. Indulging her son was the only way she knew how to nurture. It was how she was raised.

She viewed her boy with a mother's eyes. Despite warnings from others, she steadfastly refused to see what a beast he'd become until that day in the garden when she turned to see him standing there on the veranda covered in blood.

"Oh, Dandy!" she cried in dismay. She dropped her shears and hurried to him. "Dandy, what have you done?"

She started to reach for him but he was so completely covered in gore, she couldn't find a spot that was safe to touch. His ghastly state was a direct contrast to her neat attire: She wore a sunny yellow dress with a crinoline petticoat beneath and a wide-brim straw hat with a sunflower on its band. Dandy was almost completely red, mostly naked save for the Hanes briefs and white Converse trainers he wore.

Not white. They were red too, splattered with blood. So much blood.

"Let's get you into the bath," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Inside she felt sick and numbed like a great chill had come over her from the inside. She could no longer pretend her darling boy wasn't normal. For his sake and hers, something had to be done.

..

She helped him scrub off the worst of the mess in the tub where she'd bathed him all his life. It went like any other bath except that this time Gloria drew it for him herself instead of having the maid do it. She added the bubble solution herself. She had to read the bottle to see how it was done. Even still she put in twice as much as the bottle called for because she wanted nothing to upset Dandy. If there weren't enough bubbles, he wouldn't want to take his bath.

When the bath was full and loaded to the brim with bubbles she helped him get undressed and helped him into the tub. He was very quiet; detached but cooperative when she scrubbed him gently with the washcloth.

It was messy business and she wished she'd had the presence of mind to put on something older to wear while she washed him. She didn't say anything either. She didn't want to know what he'd done. She didn't even want to imagine it.

Once she had him clean she ran a fresh warm bath with all new bubbles for him to soak in. He sat in it exactly the same way he'd sat while she washed him: Slightly hunched over with his arms resting between his knees in the water, staring at his warped reflection in the silvery faucet.

Gloria left him there after gently toweling his damp hair so it wouldn't drip in his eyes while she was gone. Then she stepped out of the room.

..

Dandy felt better after the double bath. Certainly better than he expected to feel.

Killing the young man he'd met at the park had been an unparalleled rush. Each time he'd plunged the blade into the athletic guy's body Dandy had felt a surge of pleasure, a carnal reward that made him hungry for the next thrust.

His sexual experiences up to that point had been limited to what his hand and stuffed animals could provide. But pretending to fuck the oversized stuffed bear that lived in the corner of the playroom hadn't given him near the reward he'd gotten from stabbing that stranger to death. And it never would have happened if the man had just let Dandy pay him for some kind of sexual favor. But the jogger, handsome and well-built and wearing provocative shorts, had refused. He'd called Dandy a faggot.

Dandy had never been formally trained to fight. His mother would never have permitted him to try such a dangerous thing as boxing. But he was strong and when he punched the man, he hit him hard enough to knock him down. The jogger hit his head on a low concrete retaining curb liner and lay there dazed.

It was all the opportunity Dandy had needed.

He'd stabbed and stabbed until the man stopped moaning and moving. Then Dandy had stripped down with every intention of having his way with the corpse. He got as far as his underpants when a boy came into the bathroom. He saw Dandy and the body. Dandy saw him.

"Hey, little boy," he said, putting on what he thought was a charming smile. It was actually fairly unhinged but it felt friendly to him. He took a step closer, moving like he was approaching a scared bunny rabbit. "Don't be scared. We're just playing."

The boy, who was about twelve, looked from Dandy to the body on the floor. "Doesn't look like playing."

"We're acting," Dandy assured hastily. "We're both actors. Very serious actors. We're rehearsing for a play we're in. Shakespeare."

The boy looked doubtful. "Okay," he said, backing up.

"No, wait!" Dandy said and came closer. He held a bloody hand out to the boy. He couldn't let him just leave after what he'd seen. "We need another person. Can you act?"

"I have to go," the boy said, backing up more.

"No, please!"

The boy turned and ran. Dandy swore and lunged after him but the boy was too quick. So Dandy had to run too. And he had; all the way home.

The bath had grown lukewarm. It made Dandy unhappy. He didn't like sitting in lukewarm water getting pruney.

"Mother," he called. "I'm ready to get out!"

There was no answer.

"Mother!" he yelled impatiently, anger rising. When there was still no response, he yelled as loudly as he could: "MOTHER!"

No answer. Furious, Dandy got out of the bath by himself. He was so worked up that he nearly slipped, only making him angrier. He grabbed a towel and slung it around his waist then grabbed his fluffy white robe and threw it on. He was so mad he didn't even bother to put on his slippers.

"Mother!" he shouted again as he reached for the door. "I said-"

He flung open the door and was immediately faced with a small crowd of people. At the front of the crowd were two large men in white uniforms. Behind them he could see police uniforms.

Confused, Dandy took a step back. "Who are you?" he asked. Then, remembering his anger, he demanded: "What are you doing in my house? Where's my mother?"

No one answered him. The men in white grabbed him. He put up a fight but they were strong and he was outnumbered and naked when the towels fell off. They used unsporting methods to take him down, kneeing him in the unprotected groin to drop him to the floor.

"Dandy!"

He heard his mother's cry but couldn't see her through the surge of legs and hands around him. In a blur he was being hauled toward the front door.

"Mother?" he called. Then he realized she must have been the one to call the people who were abducting him. "Mother!"

"Oh, Dandy, you're sick!" she said piteously as she followed them. He craned his neck to see her. "They're going to help you. They're going to help you so you don't end up like Daddy."

"Mother!" he hollered, outraged and betrayed. "I hate you!" He struggled against the hands that held him but they were like iron. "I hate you! I HATE YOU!"

Those final words hung in the air after the men in white took him out of the house. Then the only sound was that of Gloria quietly crying.

**...**

**░A░m░e░r░i░c░a░n░ ░H░o░r░r░o░r░ ░S░t░o░r░y░**

**...**

During the ride over to Briarcliff Dandy was kept in a straight jacket and buckled to a gurney. At the hospital he was taken inside, stripped, then thrust into the open-front shower in the hydrotherapy room by big men in white clothes. He was thoroughly pissed off but no matter how he tried he couldn't land a punch or squirm free. Their hands and wide torsos were everywhere.

Then they turned on the hose.

The blast of water was on par with a fire hydrant and just as cold. The water rushed out so fast it stung his skin. He had to cover his groin with his hands to keep them from doing serious damage to his delicate bits. A couple of times he tried to shout an objection but every time he opened his mouth, he got sprayed in the face. So he scrunched his eyes shut and waited for the ordeal to end. At one point someone turned him around so they could spray his back. Then the torture was over.

To his surprise they didn't dry him off or even offer him a towel. Two of the big men grabbed him and dragged him, kicking and screaming, to a padded seclusion room where they dumped him and locked him in.

He raged for a while, pacing and kicking the air and yelling as loudly as he could. He pounded on the filthy walls and tried to bang his head on the floor. It was an exercise in futility. He couldn't harm himself or the room.

Eventually his anger was overcome by exhaustion and sprawled out on the floor on his back. He lay there hating his mother for a long time before he noticed he'd grown cold. He rolled to his side and curled up to preserve what warmth he had left. After a while he fell asleep.

..

Dandy was kept in seclusion for three days. The first day after he was incarcerated the orderlies held him down several times to force foul-tasting liquids down his throat. By the fourth time he didn't resist any longer and the next morning they started giving him his medication in little cups, just like everyone else.

The dark-haired young man was chemically rendered docile for the time being but he wasn't made stupid. He knew what they were doing to him and once he'd calmed down enough to consider the situation better, he knew what he had to do.

The third day he was a model patient. He was mild-mannered and polite. He did as he was told. The next morning they transferred him from the seclusion room to a regular cell in the men's ward. He wasn't told as much but he was put in the cell where Tate had been held. They were overcrowded and that patient's absence meant his room was empty and useable.

Dandy found the accommodations appalling, though a admittedly a step up from the padded cell. He discovered Tate's meager things in the room's only cabinet and quickly realized they weren't meant for him. Clothes, half a pack of cigarettes, a hideous sweater... Nothing he wanted either.

The cell was boring but the medication that dulled his brain made the room bearable. He could ignore it best by sleeping and he did plenty of that. Once the next medication time rolled around he palmed the pills and pretended to take them, smiling pleasantly at the orderly who gave them to him. Once the man in white was gone, Dandy hid the pills in the pile of clothes in the cabinet. He was terribly proud of his cleverness and, in a few hours, he started to feel more like himself again.

By the time his cell door opened next Dandy was completely in control of himself - as in control as he'd ever been. He looked over with an expectant look, dark brows arched high and inquisitive. Curiously, it was a nun who stepped in.

"I see we're awake," said Sister Jude.

"Yes, we are," said Dandy, more than happy to join in using the royal 'we'. "And we're bored. Are you here to release me?"

The nun eyed the young man. He was strong with wavy black hair. A boy confidently straddling the ropes of manhood, eager to hop to the other side. She imagined his skin would still be baby-soft but the raw masculine power in those muscles just beneath that warm skin...

She cleared her throat and forced herself to focus. Damned impure thoughts. "Well, now. That depends on you."

He put his hands on his knees and lifted his chin. "How so?"

"Being out of your room here at Briarcliff is a privilege. Everything is a privilege. You earn things with good behavior."

Dandy listened intently and smiled broadly at that last. "Well, I'm the best-behaved fellow around," he said. "Just ask my mother."

Jude considered pointing out that it was his mother who turned him in but decided against it. "You seem like a nice boy," she allowed. "Except that you killed someone."

His expression cratered in to a frown. "That was an isolated incident."

She reached out and touched his hair. He looked at her funny but didn't stop her when she smoothed a dark curl back from his forehead.

"I'd like to believe you," she said.

Dandy was a smart boy and he could see opportunity there, though he wasn't entirely sure what it was. He knew that this woman could at least get him out of solitary confinement. So he smiled the pretty smile his mother loved so much for pictures and parties.

"I know what I did may seem egregious," he said sincerely, brows high. "But he tried to _touch_ me! I'm no faggot, Sister. I know the bible says Thou Shall Not Kill but he wanted to... to have..." He lowered his voice to a hiss of a whisper. "Sex!" He shook his head and straightened up all proper. "I'm afraid I lost control of myself in that moment but I'm really not a dangerous person. I'm an artist! A thespian! I'm no dangerous criminal."

Jude wasn't kidding when she'd said she wanted to believe him. She very much did. And with a well-presented tale like that, she could. She smiled at him.

"A thespian?" Her fingertips grazed her collarbone but the rough feel of her nun's attire reminded her she wasn't courting in some bar. "I love the stage."

"Do you?" The boy beamed, delighted. "I love a good performance of any kind. Theater, ballet... I'm not fond of opera but even that can be delightful if you know what to see."

She smiled and wished there was less of an age gap between them. If she'd met him a decade or two earlier, her life might have been completely different. "Well, unfortunately those days are behind you for now."

"There isn't a theater program here?" Dandy asked, holding disappointment at bay. "I heard there was art and music. Why not stage performance? You have a stage."

The nun smiled dryly. "A performance would require more self-control than most of our 'guests' at Briarcliff have."

"So have a talent show," suggested the young man. "No one would have to do anything they couldn't."

Sister Jude peered at him curiously. As odd as the idea was, she liked it. True there were a lot of patients at the asylum who would never be able to take to the stage for a variety of reasons but someone had to be the audience. And for all their flaws and short-comings, she knew there were some talented people under her roof. The idea of making them get up on stage and strut their stuff appealed to her more and more.

"What a wonderful idea, Dandy," she cooed.

He beamed. "Can we do it then?"

"I'll need to ask Monsignor Howard," said Sister Jude.

"Wonderful!" Dandy smiled.

She nodded, not quite as revved up as he was. She knew bureaucracy. "I'm going to send your doctor in when he has time. If he says you're all right to have open ward privileges, you can go to the Day Room."

...

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

It's been longer than my usual update period, I know. My work's been driving me nuts, changing people's schedules without telling them and doing things like having me close one night and open the next morning. So I'm exhausted. The stuff's written, it just needs to be edited and posted so. Here I am. Better late than never, right?

So. I'll be editing this chapter later. Please forgive any typos or grammar or stuff that just doesn't flow good. I'll clean it up later. I just wanted to get this out there for you.

I wrote this right after the end of AHS Freak Show where Dandy came out of the house covered in blood. I haven't re-read it since I wrote it so it'll be interesting to me to see how it compares to what's happened in the show since.


	2. Chapter 2 - Q and A

...

"You can't do this," Ben objected, half in anger and half in desperation. "I need this position!"

"You're not being fired," Monsignor Howard said gently. "This is merely a... temporary suspension. Just until the patient is found and things settle down."

The priest was seated behind his desk, hands folded before him in an unintentionally pious way. The way the light was shining through the window behind him made it hard for Ben to see the man's features.

"And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" Ben demanded angrily. The man's patient tone only irritated him. "My family needs to eat!"

"You'll be put on paid administrative leave," said Monsignor Howard.

That surprised Ben into silence. The reverend smiled.

"I told you we don't want to lose you, Doctor Harmon," said Timothy. "Your suspension is just a formality for the sake of the public who don't understand how mental patients behave. Of course we here at Briarcliff don't think you have anything to do with any of this and we're praying vigilantly for your daughter's safe return."

Ben was mollified in spite of himself. The holy man made a good case. The fact that Ben would be paid for the time off cast the whole matter in a completely different light. Finally he nodded.

"When do I begin my leave?"

..

Meanwhile, in another portion of the hospital, Sister Jude was having a similar meeting with Oliver Thredson.

"This is- I can't," he said. He was seated before the nun's desk under her unsympathetic gaze and could barely contain his outrage at what she was asking of him. "I've already got too full a case load as it is!"

"Doctor Harmon is being put on administrative leave," Sister Jude said crisply. "Someone has to absorb his patients in the meantime and we need someone to take this new patient on immediately."

"What about Doctor Simms?"

"She's taking on the majority of Doctor Harmon's existing cases," said the nun.

"Doctor Galloway?"

"He's retiring at the end of the month."

"What?!"

Sister Jude remained stoic in the face of his panic. "He's retiring. The man is almost as senile as some of his patients."

"We're losing Harmon _and_ Galloway?" Oliver was on his feet now, pacing.

"We've already hired another resident," said Sister Jude. "They're having to relocate from New York so they won't be here till the end of the week. They'll be taking over all of Doctor Galloway's patients."

The information was a small relief to Oliver. "Are we going to hire another doctor to cover Ben's patients?"

"We don't have that kind of money," the nun said flatly. "Besides. God willing, your escaped patient will be corralled soon and we won't have to worry about case distribution."

Thredson didn't like the way she implied that Tate's current state of flight was somehow connected to him. "So when Tate returns, so does Doctor Harmon?"

The nun smiled a humorless smile. "Yes. That's correct." She dumped the smile. "Provided what we believe about his lack of involvement turns out to be true. If it turns out he had anything to do with the escape, of course, criminal charges will be filed."

Oliver wondered if the same thing would be true of Violet if it turned out she was an accomplice rather than a hostage. "What about the girl?"

"What about her?"

"What if it turns out she's helping Tate? Instead of his hostage?"

Sister Jude frowned. "We'll cross that bridge if we get to it. Right now you need to meet your new patient."

..

When Dandy was brought into his office, Oliver was surprised at how good-looking the young man was. He looked like Superman from the comics, right down to the black curl on his forehead. He sat straight and proper in his chair despite the wrist cuffs that kept his hands fastened to the belt on his waist. His clothing could have been a polo suit and leather hunting jacket, not the drab hospital gown he wore, for all that he sat like a prince.

"Good morning," Dr. Thredson said once he had the tape recorder started. "Is it all right if I call you Dandy or would you prefer Mr. Mott?"

Dandy smiled, and the charming look on his chiseled features only furthered the Superman impression. "Dandy is fine, doctor. When you say 'Mr. Mott' it makes me think of daddy."

Oliver quirked a brow at the use of the term 'daddy' and glanced at the patient's file. The record said he was 23.

"Dandy, then," the doctor smiled. "Do you smoke, Dandy?"

"Oh, no! It's a filthy habit." The young man noticed the ashtray on the doctor's desk then and smiled apologetically. "No offense."

Oliver nodded. "None taken. Do you drink?"

Dandy's smile evaporated, replaced by a guarded look of mistrust. "Do I look like a drunk to you?"

"There's no need to get defensive," the therapist said gently. "I'm not here to judge you. I'm simply trying to get to know you."

Thredson consulted his notes again. He already knew Dandy drank and how he preferred to take his infusion but he decided to wait on tackling that little fetish until later. He suspected it didn't have directly to do with whatever had caused the young man to snap and murder the other fellow.

"Well, why don't I ask you some questions then?" Dandy proposed.

He had a strange light in his eyes then and Oliver could tell he was trying to reach out in his own snobbish way. So the doctor relented though normally he would have pushed harder to keep on a more traditional track.

"Very well, Dandy. What would you like to ask me?"

Dandy smiled, delighted that the man was going to play along with his game. "I'll ask you a question," he said to clarify. "Then you answer. The you ask me a question. And I answer! Deal?"

Oliver nodded and jotted down a short description of Dandy's visual behavior. "Ask away."

"Okay," Dandy said. He flexed his fingers, wanting to move about more than his cuffs were allowing him to. "What was the craziest patient you ever had like?"

The doctor's brow knit in a faint frown and he pushed his horn-rimmed glasses up. "I'm afraid I can't discuss other cases with you."

Dandy glowered, good mood instantly smashed. "That's not a rule!"

"Yes," Oliver said patiently. "It is. It's a rule Briarcliff insists I follow or I could go to jail. You can ask me questions about myself only."

The young man across from him sulked for a moment then decided it was still a worthwhile game even if it wasn't going to be quite as interesting. "Okay then," he said, rallying his arrogance with a lift of his square jaw. "Why did you decide to become a psychiatrist? What made you choose to surround yourself with lunatics and imbeciles all day?"

Oliver peered at his patient. Dandy smiled regally back at him.

"Many people here don't fit either of those descriptions," the doctor said. He lit a cigarette. "Would you put yourself in either of those categories?"

"We're not talking about me!" Dandy flared, annoyed again. The doctor wasn't playing right. "Answer my question or I'm not playing anymore!"

Normally Oliver would crack down at that point. He didn't like being challenged for control over a therapy session but he was finding the bald exchange very enlightening. By letting Dandy be himself he was learning far more than he could just pelting the youth with questions.

"I was an orphan," he said. "I grew up around a constant shifting tide of mental illness. I saw a problem and wanted to help be a part of the solution."

"How compassionate of you."

Thredson couldn't tell if Dandy was being sincere or sarcastic. "My turn," he said. "Why did you kill that young man?"

Dandy blinked and all the good humor drained from his face along with a little of his color. His fingers curled reflexively into fists but he forced them open again and put on a puckery smile. "Of course you're curious about that. That's simple: He tried to touch me. In an inappropriate way."

"So he lured you into the bathroom?" prompted the therapist. "How? What did he say?"

"That's two more questions," Dandy pointed out. "It's my turn first."

Oliver nodded and waved a hand permissively while he tapped his cigarette ash with the other.

"Have you ever slept with one of your patients?"

"No," said Thredson without hesitation. "So tell me. How did the two of you end up in the bathroom together?"

Dandy frowned. He didn't like the doctor's answer. It was boring. So was the man's persistence about what happened in the park. "We just happened to be there." He paused, the added: "I was using the urinal and he grabbed my bottom. I had to defend myself. There. That's all there is to the story so please ask more interesting questions. It's my turn now. What's your most embarrassing moment?"

He wanted the doctor to suffer for being so terminally dull.

"Ever?" Oliver said. "Well. I guess that would have to be when the elastic on my underpants broke. It happened during class when I was ten. And, of course, it had to happen right while I was up at the blackboard doing a word problem. Everyone saw them fall out of the leg of my shorts."

That wasn't quite the sort of story Dandy had hoped to hear but he decided it would do. "What did you do?"

"That's another question," parried the doctor, using Dandy's own rule against him.

This time the younger man smiled, acknowledging Thredson's move as a valid one. It was all right to follow Dandy's rules even if it meant Dandy lost a point because of it.

"Are you a virgin, Dandy?"

The young man's smile froze. He didn't answer immediately and when he did it was a in cautious tone. "Yes... Unless you count, you know. Self-service."

"No, I don't count that."

"Then yes," said Dandy. He drew himself up proudly. "I'm saving myself for the right girl."

"How traditional," observed Oliver.

"It's the way it should be," said Dandy matter-of-factly. "When I'm married I want to give all of myself to that special person."

It was a lie. Not the part about being a virgin; that was true enough. But Dandy didn't want to save himself for marriage. He didn't know what he wanted really but that day in the park he'd been ready to lose his virginity and a whole lot more. But he'd been wrong. He didn't want to be with a man. That was just a confused notion born of extreme boredom and a lack of fine, quality girls to tickle his fancy. All of the ones mother had set him up with were dull, stupid cows and shallow bitches.

"So you're hoping to have a family of your own eventually?"

"Yes," Dandy said. "And that's another question. Now you owe me two," he smiled smugly.

Oliver tipped his head in a permissive nod. "Ask away."

"Why aren't you married?" When he saw the doctor's blank look he glanced meaningfully at the man's ring finger.

The doctor self-consciously wrung his hands like the gesture might wipe away the question. "Like you, I haven't found the right person yet."

"So you're not queer?" pressed Dandy even though it used up his bonus question.

"No," Dr. Thredson smiled. His dark eyes were unreadable behind his thick glasses. "Just a very busy man with little time for a social life."

Dandy wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or annoyed. "Sounds like a dull existence, living just to do... this." He waved a hand to include the room and the area beyond.

"Someone's got to," said the doctor.

"I wouldn't," said Dandy, drawing himself up. "I'm going to be an actor."

Oliver tipped his head to invite the young man to expand on that idea since he wasn't going to phrase it in the form of a question.

He didn't need to. Dandy was more than happy to tell him all about it. "I discussed it with Sister Jude," he said, warming to his topic. He scooted forward to the edge of his seat, hands at the ready to help describe what he was envisioning. "She said we can have the show in the lecture theater. I will be the lead and the director."

"Show?" Oliver couldn't help asking. He was lost.

Dandy drew himself up even straighter. "Oh. You didn't hear? Briarcliff is going to have a talent show," he beamed.

...

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

So. It was my first Christmas since my mom died and it hit me pretty hard. I'm slowly getting my mojo back but may be erratic with updates for a bit as my work schedule's also playing a part in my production schedule. But I will try to post a little more often. I hate leaving you hanging.

So. Freakshow made my heart hurt. I've never been a Pepper fan - didn't dislike the character but was never endeared to her - but the story of her journey from the sideshow to the asylum was so sad. It's a story mean real freaks lived, unfortunately. It was a strangely poignant epilogue to that character's story and an interesting tie-in to season 2. It did reaffirm my feelings that the UFO influence on that character cheapened her. Here's this pinhead freak whose sister murdered her own child and blamed it on her to get her thrown in the asylum... to end up toting a baby alien and spouting prose? Ecch. I'll continue to disregard that bit.

And further reality-based asylum info: Briarcliff's talent show was inspired by the Titicut Follies, a variety show the inmates at Bridgewater (Massachusetts correctional facility for the criminally insane) were forced to put on. There was a documentary by the same name made by reporter Frederick Wiseman in 1967 after he went to the place for a news story. He saw the conditions there and felt moved to make the film, to expose it. Little did he know, he was recording the film that would single-handedly begin the downfall of the asylum in the USA.


End file.
